


Sunlight

by LittleAprilFlowers



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Self-Indulgent, mention of love bites
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 00:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18434858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAprilFlowers/pseuds/LittleAprilFlowers
Summary: In my most recent playthrough of Origins I decided to romance Zevran. Best decision I ever made. A little fluffy drabble featuring my Warden Aeducan.





	Sunlight

All at once the chaos of the world outside falls silent. Nights in Ferelden are bitterly cold in comparison to the heady warm evenings of Antiva which Zevran is most accustomed to. He had hoped in time that his travels on the road with the Warden and her other mismatched companions would help him to adjust to the harsher southern climate. But he still shivers every time the entrance to Artin’s tent flutters in the breeze.

Yet he knows, though his body may be cold, his heart will warm him when he takes in the sight of the woman sleeping beside him, blissfully unaware of his attention. It is rare to see Artin so unguarded. Despite her being only a little over twenty, her eyes when open always portray such hardened wisdom and authority. One might compare her to the severe statues of the Paragons that stand vigil over her cavernous home. Now, as she softly snores, sleeping on her front with her face half buried in the crook of her arm, Zevran admires her softened features - a delicate button nose with the blooming sun spots across the bridge of it. Strange to think she had lived but a little under a year on the surface, seeing the sky and all its wonders for the first time which the likes of him and their other companions - save for Oghren of course - took much for granted.

One would never guess the weight of the responsibility balanced precariously upon her back. Such a thought draws Zevran’s attention to the fading imprint of his teeth close to where her neck branches out into her sculpted shoulders. Another time will come that he can renew the mark, perhaps. For now he is more than content to allow her to slumber undisturbed as he admires her, committing each numerous scar and blossoming freckle to memory.

With his mind wandering to more tender gestures, Zevran resists the urge to reach out and trace the tip of his finger along the dainty bow formed of her top lip. She is so irresistible in this moment; he wishes the sun should never rise again. He would go without its loving warmth forever if it meant an eternity in this tent in the freezing cold with the heat of the woman he adores beside him, the woman who spared him when she had no reason to and who trusted him in spite of the circumstances of their introduction.

Artin’s mouth falls open slightly as she breathes deeper, slipping into heavier sleep. The sound of her inhaling and exhaling is the most soothing music he knows. A part of Zevran wonders how he could have ever lived without it. He feels in his heart that perhaps he couldn’t now. He hopes he never has to, that his prayers will be answered and they will succeed in their seemingly impossible mission. A hope in vain, he ponders, recalling how rarely it seemed the Maker answered anyone’s calls these days, let alone those of a skilled murderer and criminal.

Not to mention the man who would commit the sinful things that creep into his mind as he admires Artin’s shape, where she lies tangled in the sheets in only her underclothes. If he had his way these garments would be burning on the campfire just feet away so that they might never dare to conceal her shape from him again. Especially the charming curve of her hip which bears three thick black lines which match those adorning his cheeks.

Unable to withhold it after being so patient for so long - because she truly is so irresistible to him that he might burst - Zevran leans down and kisses over the tattoo of his own handiwork imprinted permanently upon her skin. Artin stirs and opens her hazel eyes for a moment, and she smiles as Zevran grins up at her.

“Sleep.” she insists in a weary mumble, affectionate smile still tugging at her full lips as she hides her face in her arm once more.

“As you insist,  _ mia cara _ .” Zevran replies, crawling on his hands and knees to curl around her and pull her close to him, her back pressed to his front, radiating such wonderful warmth that he daren't let go. He pushes away thoughts of darkspawn and war, and loses himself in the steady rise and fall of her breathing and the familiar earthy scent of her hair.


End file.
